Bitter Ashes
by darke wulf
Summary: AU. In a world where vampires, werewolves and the fae live with 'normal' humans, Jim and Spock grow up searching for a place where they belong. The actions of a crazed vampire bring them together, but will he also be the one to tear them apart?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: As mentioned in the summary below, this is a combination of "Stark Trek," "Blade," and "Mercy Thompson" – none of which I own. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment._

_From what I could find, M'Umbha is actually Nyota's mother's name._

* * *

_This is the first chapter of the **help_chile** story I am writing for **ficchica** . She asked for a extreme AU Spock/Kirk. What I came up with is "Star Trek" meets "Blade" meets "Mercy Thompson" (a series of Urban Fantasy by Patricia Briggs which I would highly recommend). While the story was only supposed to be 2,500 words, we're now looking at approaching 10,000. Thankfully, **ficchica** has been most understanding :-)_

* * *

The Council Chamber was nearly silent as the Council itself returned from their deliberations. The full Clan was in attendance, filling the benches that lined the walls to capacity; none had wanted – or dared – to be absent from a situation of such importance. The only sounds were the shifting of nervous bodies and the screech of wood-on-wood as the Council members retook their seats, the elevated thrones from which they ruled over the vampiric Clan Vulcan.

Sarek stared up at the Council as they settled, his face an impassive mask in spite of the silver, crucifix-studded chains that encircled his body and tied him to the floor. Just days ago he had his own seat amongst them; now his chair was covered with a black cloth of mourning, and would remain so until a worthy successor was chosen.

T'Pau spoke from her center seat, gazing down at her kinsman with disdain. "Sarek S'chn T'gai, you have been found guilty of treason against the Clan Vulcan. You willingly and without apparent remorse mated a human. You produced an offspring with said human and, rather than eliminate the abomination, you instead have been training it in our ways.

"Adding to your offense, you aided the escape of these vermin and have refused to aid the Clan in locating them.

"As punishment for your crimes, you have been sentenced to death by fire, to be execute immediately. Guards, remove this filth."

At T'Pau's words three vampires, dressed in the crimson robes of the Council Guard, exited the shadows that clung to the wall of the audience chamber. Each wore thick leather gloves, stiff with the spilled blood of humans, to protect themselves from the chains. They warily approached Sarek, though he did not struggle. He knew exactly how hopeless his situation was – trapped in the heart of the Clan's catacombs, without any allies. It was not in his nature to illogically fight against the inevitable.

And he was able to take heart in the knowledge that his wife and child were safe. He had been able to get them away in time, much to the ire of the Council. They had ripped through his mind - his shields no match for their combined might - searching for the location of his family, all for naught. He had anticipated their desire to eliminate his mate and son, and had instructed Amanda accordingly. He himself had no idea as to where she had fled. And what he did not know, he could not betray.

As he was escorted to the execution chamber and secured to a solid metal pole that stood in its center, he still could not bring himself to regret the actions that had led him to this fate. He had enjoyed nearly ten years with his mate, the woman who made him feel alive in a way he had never before known. He had had seven years with his son, spent out of necessity in secret, but no less treasured. His beautiful son – the perfect combination of Amanda's heart and his own mind. He could never regret the events that led to his child's birth.

The flames around him grew higher, but his mind was miles away, spending a peaceful morning with his beloved family. He focused the entirety of his being on this memory, using it to hold back the pain as long as he could.

Finally, after nearly fifteen minutes even his formidable mind could no longer shield himself from the torment. Screams were torn from his throat as his flesh melted from his bones, the curse of his existence keeping him alive where mortals would have already fallen into darkness.

Finally, blessedly, life fled from what was left of his body. As his spirit departed his remains turned to ash - all that remained of the one of the greatest of the Clan.

* * *

It was night on the grounds of Gaia's Temple. Amanda Grayson sat at a table in the kitchen of the main house, a steaming cup of chamomile tea in front of her folded hands. Her head was bowed as she stared unseeing at the table, fighting with all her spirit to remain calm… _Sarek_…

Forcefully pushing her despair down, she turned shimmering eyes to her hostess, M'Umbha Uhura, swallowing to loosen the lump in her throat before speaking. "Thank… thank you for letting us stay with the Coven. I was desperate to find someplace safe that Sarek didn't… wouldn't have known about. I know it must be hard for you to allow Spock…"

"Amanda," the dark skinned, exotically beautiful woman sitting across from Amanda interrupted and reached across the table to enfold Amanda's hands in her own. Fathomless brown eyes, filled with patience, strength and compassion met Amanda's own. "You owe us no thanks. We should have been there for you… we should have listened to your defense of Sarek rather than turning our backs on you."

"No, I understand now," Amanda refuted, shaking her head and turning her hands to squeeze those of her long time friend. "I've seen what the vast majority of vampires are like. Sarek is… was… fantastically unique."

"Indeed. From what you have said, he was a man worth knowing. It is to our shame that we never took the opportunity given to us."

"It turned out for the best. At least Spock and I have somewhere to stay where the Clan will hopefully not know to look."

"How is the child? This all must be incredibly difficult for him."

"Spock hasn't spoken more than ten words since we had to run. Sarek was never able to be a continuous part of Spock's life, it was too risky. But when he was with us, it was so obvious how much he cared for Spock… I can only hope that Spock allows himself to heal.

"Sarek demanded a lot of Spock – he was the first to realize just how difficult it was for Spock to keep his more primal side in check. They spent so much time together, meditating and working on Spock's control…

"My fear is that Spock will choose to reject that training, either out of anger or grief. If he does that, it won't be long until he is completely uncontrollable. He'll be little more than a mindless monster… I just don't know what I'll do. I just lost my mate, I can't lose Spock as well. I just can't!"

Rising from her chair, M'Umbha rounded the table, coming up behind the sobbing Amanda and wrapping her in her arms. "Be at peace, my sister. From what you have told me, Spock is a strong, intelligent boy. I do not think he will make worthless his Father's sacrifice by allowing himself to descend into madness. If for no other reason than because to do so would leave you alone."

Amanda turned in her chair, attempting to ensconce herself in her friend's strength. Not able to achieve the closeness she desired, she hastily stood, wrapping her own arms around M'Umbha and burying her face in the other woman's neck as she cried out her fears and frustrations.

The two women stood there for a long time as Amanda released the emotions she had kept pent up so as to appear strong for her son. M'Umbha continued to hold her tightly, her hands gently stroking the smaller woman's back. She did not offer any false platitudes, merely provided her unwavering support.

Eventually the tears stopped, though Amanda remained swaddled in her friend's embrace as she gathered herself. Finally, with one last deep breath, she pulled away, looking up at M'Umbha with grateful eyes.

"Thank you."

"Please, as I told you before – no thanks are needed. I am glad that I can be here for you."

Amanda tightened her hold on M'Umbha at that. Her heart and mind still ached – she felt so terribly empty now without Sarek's presence in the back of her head providing strength and love – but she would survive. She would continue on for Spock, and ensure that he would have the best childhood possible. She would provide him with all the support and love she could. Sarek would live on, through her memories and their son.

Several moments later M'Umbha uncomfortably cleared her throat, preparing to ask what she knew would be a difficult question. She ached, as she didn't want to cause her friend any more pain, but it was her duty to ensure the safety of the Coven, and that meant there were certain inquiries that had to be made.

"Had you had any plans as to how to control his Pon Farr?"

"Not anymore," Amanda sighed, shaking her head and pulling away. "As a full-blooded vampire, Sarek would have been able to control Spock's… urges. I don't know what we'll do now. There's time yet, though. Based on Spock's development, Sarek estimated he'd enter his time around his eighteenth birthday."

"How old is Spock now?"

"He recently turned seven."

"We still have eleven years, then," M'Umbha pointed out, determined not to allow any more weight to fall on her friend's weary shoulders at the moment if she could help it. "We'll come up with something. Between your science and our magic, there's sure to be an answer."

A tentative, watery smile crossed Amanda's face. "It'll be just like the old days."

"Indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: As mentioned in the summary, this is a combination of "Stark Trek," "Blade," and "Mercy Thompson" – none of which I own. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment._

* * *

Christopher Pike looked down on the battered child with sorrowful eyes. The boy looked so small and vulnerable in the hospital bed, hooked up to various devices, body still tattered and bruised.

"The doctors say he's out of the woods now," a middle-aged woman, the only other person in the room, spoke up from her place at the window where she looked out over the hospital grounds. "They expect him to make a full recovery."

"That's good to hear…"

"In fact, they're shocked at the speed of his recovery. It was touch and go for days but then, all of a sudden, he started to heal at an amazing rate."

"And you say they believe he was attacked by a wolf?"

"Their original prognosis, assuming the unlikely chance that he survived, was months - if not years - of intense physical therapy just to get him to walk again. Now they're talking about releasing him in a couple months."

Chris sighed, his heart heavy as he turned from the child to regard his mother. "Why did you ask me here, Winona? We haven't seen each other – hell we haven't even talked to each other – since George died eight years ago."

Winona gave no sign of having heard his inquiry. Neither spoke for several minutes, the silence broken only by the sounds of the heart monitor and other medical equipment.

"I can't… I just can't Chris," Winona sobbed, her previously crossed arms coming down, hands resting against the windowsill as she leaned her forehead against the glass. "It was already so _hard_… he looked and acted so much like George. And now he's even more like him…

"I want you to take Jim with you when he's released. I want you to raise him with the Pack."

"And from the way you're talking, I assume that you won't be coming with us…"

"I have no desire to live that life again. George was the only thing that kept me with the Pack before."

"And Jim isn't worth the same sacrifice?"

"…"

"Dammit, at least look at me!" Pike roared, infusing his order with every bit of the power available to him as an Alpha. "You're giving your son away – you're giving _George's son_ away. The least you can do is fucking face me while you do it!"

"What do you want me to say?" Winona sobbed, finally turning violently from the window. Her once beautiful face was lined with fatigue, and shadows darkened her bloodshot eyes. Her auburn hair looked as though it hadn't seen a brush for several days, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Chris' lips curled into a grimace as the reek of guilt, depression and self-pity radiated from her form, wafting in his direction as she moved closer.

"Do I love Jim? Of course I do! But I just can't stand to take care of him – to see him every day – anymore! All the time he becomes more and more like George – that wound's never healed, Christopher; Jim's been constantly rubbing salt in it just by existing. And now, as if it wasn't enough that he look and act like George… now he's a fucking werewolf, too! I just can't take it anymore!

"I don't want to abandon him, but I don't have a choice. He's driving me crazy, little by little… I don't want to turn into my own father… I swore I would never do that to _any_ child… but I'm slipping – I can feel myself falling. I refuse to let it come to that. _Please_, Chris… take Jim. He'll need training anyway. And you're a good man. I know you'll protect him, and treat him well…"

"Of course I'll train him. But you don't have to completely cut the kid off. Even if you didn't want to live with the Pack, you could still visit…"

Winona shook her head, staring sadly down at her youngest son. "I need time to recover – to heal. I'm going to be selling the farm and heading somewhere new… somewhere I can get a fresh start. Maybe in a few years we can talk about visitation, if he even wants to acknowledge me as his mother at that point, but right now I just need space. Take him in, be the parent that I haven't been able to be for him. In spite of what you no doubt think of me, I only want the best for him."

"And what about Sam?"

"Sam's… easier. He's always looked like my side of the family. And losing his father… changed him. He's quiet, studious… almost reclusive. The teachers all say he's fine at school, it's not like he doesn't have any friends or refuses to socialize. But it's like he's determined to be as little like his father as possible. It helps."

Winona shrugged her shoulder, the tormented guilt on her face the only thing holding back the vitriolic words that bubbled in Chris' chest.

"I don't know if Sam will want to visit Jim or not – things have been strained between them lately. But I'll encourage him to do so. It's not that I don't want Jim to be part of our family," Winona insisted, her eyes pleading with Pike to understand, "but just by being with us, he's tearing us apart. I think it'll be best for everyone if we take a break from each other."

Pike's face was stony when he replied, his disdain for Winona clear in his voice. "I'll take the kid in, but I don't agree with or like the fact that you're basically wiping your hands of him - no matter the pretty words you use to try to ease your own guilt. He will, for all intents and purposes, become my son. I refuse to leave him in limbo, without any family that cares to call him their own.

"Sam is welcome to visit, but be sure he's aware of what to expect. I don't know how much he remembers of the Pack – George was always hesitant to expose him to too much at such a young age."

"He'll know. Even if he doesn't want to visit, I'll tell him. I don't want him believing any of the old wives' tales about werewolves and thinking the worst of his brother."

Chris studied Winona for several moments. Unable to meet his piercing stare, she lowered her eyes to the ground, wringing her hands and shifting on her feet – nervous energy not allowing her to remain still.

"I wasn't thrilled when George mated you. You always seemed too soft to me, too spoiled. But you stuck around, when a lot of mates don't when it really sinks in as to what they've signed on for. I thought I'd been wrong about you; I figured you were just one of those that had a more steady, quiet strength."

Finally he looked away, shaking his head in obvious disappointment. "Turns out I was right all along."

Looking back at the unconscious boy, Pike reached out and gently squeezed a small hand. As if able to feel the sensation, Jim returned the pressure, though Chris could tell that the boy wasn't even close to coming out of his drug induced slumber. He shook his head, impressed with the obvious strength of the boy. To survive a changing at such a young age…

"You'll be alright, kid. I promise," he murmured,

With one last handclasp he moved away from the bed, heading towards the door. He paused after opening it and turned slightly to look back into the room.

"I'll be back in a couple weeks. I'm not going to let you dump him off with some stranger right after he gets out of the hospital. I'll visit as often as I can until he's ready to be released."

Winona nodded, looking relieved and yet worried at the same time. Pike couldn't have cared less. She had proven herself to be worse than useless. George would have been appalled had he been able to see her now. Perhaps it was for the best that he would be taking Jim in. As a human, weakness was not ideal, but still acceptable. As a werewolf, it would get you killed. He just hoped she hadn't already done too much damage to the boy.

Finally Chris left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He forced himself to walk calmly down the halls on his way out of the hospital. In his mind he was running through the scant local wildernesses nearby, trying to think of one suitably remote or private to allow him to change without risking exposure. He was in desperate need of a run to clear his head and reign in the anger and frustration that filled him.

After Pike left Winona walked over to the bed. She gazed down at her youngest son, tears once again flowing from her eyes as she ran a shaking hand through his golden hair.

"I'm so sorry, Jimmy. I know this will hurt you, but it's for the best. I swear…" She placed a kiss to Jim's forehead, then rested hers against it. She closed her eyes and for several seconds just concentrated on gathering her emotions, working to center herself until she didn't feel quite so likely to break down.

"I swear, Jimmy. It's for the best."


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: As mentioned in the summary, this is a combination of "Stark Trek," "Blade," and "Mercy Thompson" – none of which do I own. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment._

* * *

"What's the matter, freak? We ain't good enough to talk to? Or are you just too scared to come over here and face us?"

After years of practice, twelve-year old Spock had become quite talented at ignoring comments directed his way that were meant to incite his anger or otherwise emotionally compromise him. He continued to read - sitting on the grass under one of the largest trees on the Coven's grounds, enjoying the pleasant weather and the comfortable presence of his companion – and paying no mind to the small group of teens and pre-teens that stood several yards away.

An aggravated growl from beside him did catch his attention, however. "Be at ease, Nyota," he spoke absently as he turned a page, "you know that their juvenile attempts at evoking an emotional reaction do not concern me."

"Yeah, well they concern me!" she snarled, slamming her book closed and turning to glare at the group. "You're a member of this coven, witch or not. Hell, almost every family here has members that have no talent, you don't see them being persecuted like this."

"I would point out that there is a rather marked difference between simply not being a witch and actually being a vampire."

"You're only half-vampire. And you're a heck of a lot more human than any of them."

"Come on you fucking monster! Stop hiding behind Uhura!"

Nyota closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. "Come on, Spock. You know it would only take a little light show for me to scare them off."

"I do not see how giving them the reaction they are seeking, even if it had the beneficial result of temporarily chasing them off, would be of any perma…"

Spock was cut off as a large stone suddenly impacted with the side of his head. More surprised than hurt, he turned wide eyes towards the group where the eldest boy was looking equal parts frightened and proud.

"Ha! That finally got your attention, did it freak? Should have known violence would be the only thing you'd understand," he yelled, puffing his chest out as he was congratulated by his peers.

"Oh, that is IT!" Nyota shouted, jumping to her feet. She waved her hand, intercepting a second rock and sending it back at the side-kick who had thrown it.

"I have had enough of your idiotic, bigoted behavior!"

The group found themselves moving away from Nyota, awed in spite of themselves at the fearsome image she presented. Her body was completely surrounded with a pulsing, glowing halo of her power; her dark hair was floating slightly in its currents. Her eyes were completely white - blazing orbs of lightening that narrowed as she glared at her opponents.

"Spock is my brother. You will leave him alone. You _know _he will not defend himself against any of you. I have no such compunctions.

"If you attack him, if you make fun of him, if you annoy him in any way, I will take it as a personal attack against _myself_ and I will respond accordingly. And you can be damn sure that when I explain the situation to my mother, she will back me in this completely."

"How can you defend that monster?" one girl, braver – or perhaps more stupid - than the others, shouted.

"He's not a monster! Spock is an intelligent, thoughtful, caring person. You'd know this if you actually spent any time with him. Instead, you listen to the frightened lies being spread by ignorant, worthless trash…"

A warm hand on her arm calmed her slightly. She took another deep breath, drawing on the control of her brother to help bring her own emotions back into check.

Shaking her head in exasperation, she commented tiredly, "If he were really the monster you claim him to be, you would all be dead by now."

Gathering her powers, she concentrated intently, calling on the earth to lend her strength. "I'm sick of looking at you. Go away."

With a wave of her hand, the three she knew to be the ringleaders of the group disappeared, teleported away. The rest stared at Nyota, awed and terrified by this show of skill and strength. Almost as one, they turned and ran.

"That was unnecessary and unwise, Nyota. That will not stop their attacks against myself. If anything, you have only identified yourself as also being a target."

"Good," she replied tiredly, slumping against the tree and sliding down the rough bark to the ground, "because the next time I'll kick all their asses. This was their only warning."

Spock released a small sigh as he sat next to his sister. "You do realize they undoubtedly attempt to cause you to be rebuked for your behavior."

"Let them. Once Mom hears what happens, I'll be holding her back." Turning slightly, Nyota laid down, placing her head in Spock's lap. "Now hush. Using that much power took a lot out of me. I'm taking a nap."

Fond liquid-brown eyes looked down on her. Resigning himself to his position, Spock reached over and picked up his discarded book. "As you say."

* * *

M'Umbha sat behind the desk in her office, looking sternly down at her daughter. Nyota sat before her, sitting straight-backed and proud – obviously not regretting her actions. If the situation was not as it was, M'Umbha would have been proud of the confident, strong woman her child was becoming. Unfortunately, the matter before them was quite serious.

"Nyota, what have I told you about using your powers to frighten or attack others? There are eight children of the Coven all stating that you unfairly attacked them, threatened them, then actually _teleported_ three of their members away. What were you thinking, child?"

"I was only defending Spock. You know that he will not do so himself, out of some stupid fear that he will suddenly not be able to control himself." Nyota's scoff made it clear what she thought on the matter.

"I know that you don't like it when the others tease him, but…"

"_Tease_ him? Is that what they're claiming? That I suddenly went berserk because they were only teasing him?"

A heavy stone started growing in the pit of M'Umbha's stomach. She had known that something had not rung true with the children's story, but with so many of them – with their parents – calling for action she had had no choice but to talk to her daughter. She had perhaps willfully allowed herself to be convinced that Nyota had overreacted, as the alternative – that members of her Coven had gone beyond the pale in their dealings with Spock – was a situation she truly dreaded.

"Please. If I was going to attack them over _teasing _– or verbal assault, which is really what they've been doing - I would have done it years ago. I don't know about you, Mom, but I draw the line at physical harm. It was one thing when they were making fun of him. Yeah, it upset me, but I could deal. But then they started _stoning_ him… there was no way I was going to sit back and just let that happen! Ever!"

"Stoning… Nyota, I need you to tell me exactly what happened, from the beginning."

Knowing her Mother as she did, Nyota was finally able to relax. Once the truth was out – and if necessary she was more than willing to accept a truth serum – she knew that M'Umbha would be just as angry as she was. Forcefully stifling a savage grin, Nyota began her story.

* * *

Several days later found Spock standing stiffly in front of his mother in the kitchen of their small home. Amanda graced him with a fond smile, finding herself caught off-guard by just how old her little boy was becoming.

"I'm so proud of you, Spock." Amanda brought her hands up, resting one on each should of her son and squeezing, being careful not to touch the bare skin at his neck. "Even without your Father here to help, you've done such an incredible job with continuing your training. To have maintained control, in spite of what those terrible children were doing… I don't think there are words to convey just how impressed I am with you."

"Thank you, Mother," Spock returned, expression softening only by the smallest of margins – though it was more than enough for his mother to recognize it as the smile that it was.

Amanda's heart ached to kiss Spock's cheek, but she knew that the skin-to-skin contact would be too great a trial on his control. It had been nearly two years since his last blood rage. She had no desire to cause him to backslide.

Instead she continued speaking, ignoring the scandalized expression that broke through Spock's mask for an instant at her choice of topic. "I know it's been getting harder for you, though, as you get closer to puberty and… what that entails."

A sly smile spread over her face, "And Nyota won't always be there to cause a distraction."

"Mother…" Spock _almost_ groaned.

"I know, I know," she chuckled. "Nyota is your sister. You do not now, nor do you ever anticipate having any sort of romantic feelings for her – not she for you. Still, the two of you are so cute together. And I am glad that you have someone like her in your life, even if she isn't your destined mate."

Spock knew better than to argue with his mother when she was acting so illogically. Instead he gazed at her expectantly as she reached into a pocket and pulled out a dark brown leather choker with what looked like an emerald stone in the center. The gem sparkled – indeed almost seemed to glow - with a light unlike any normal emerald, however.

"M'Umbha and I have been working on this for years – since we first arrived at the Coven. We only just finished. It should help you control yourself until you are able to find your T'hy'la," she explained, holding it out for Spock to take. "Please, put it on."

As soon as Spock touched the choker he could feel the magic that had been infused in the stone. There was also a familiar aura… slight but one that he knew very well. Reverently holding the piece, he looked up at his mother with wide eyes.

"It's… Father…"

"Yes," Amanda confirmed, her voice heavy with suppressed tears, "we used a vial of blood that he gave me before we fled in the forging of the crystal. His blood, combined with the magic that M'Umbha infused with it should allow the necklace to suppress your vampiric blood in nearly the same way that Sarek would have."

Spock continued to stare at the choker for several moments. Finally, still handling it with the utmost care, he placed the choker around his neck - jerking slightly when it resized itself to fit snugly yet comfortably against his throat.

"Sorry," Amanda chuckled, "I should have warned you. That's one of M'Umbha's favorite spells, though I have to admit that in this case it will be helpful to not have to replace the band as you grow."

Spock stood silently, eyes closed as he luxuriated in the feel of being immersed in his father's protection, a pleasure he hadn't enjoyed for years. He could tell that his mother was right – already he could feel a lessening in what had become a constant ache at the back of his head, the result of him forcefully suppressing his more violent nature.

"It seems promising, Mother," he told her, bringing up his right hand to brush sensitive fingers over the gem. "At least initially, it is indeed alleviating some of the strain that results from my efforts to quell my more volatile half."

"That's excellent to hear, dear," Amanda replied with a large smile on her face. "Come, M'Umbha will want to hear the good news. And I know that she also wanted to run through a few tests with you wearing the stone."

Spock nodded his head, moving to follow Amanda. "Of course, Mother."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: As mentioned in the summary, this is a combination of "Stark Trek," "Blade," and "Mercy Thompson" – none of which do I own. No money or other profits are being made from this attempt at entertainment._

* * *

Sunlight permeated through the leaves of the Plumas National Forest, leaving the ground below painted in alternating patches of light and shadow. An unnatural stillness abounded in the area, the cause of which was racing crazily through the underbrush, paying no heed to the brambles and branches that tore at skin and fur. The young wolf – barely more than a pup – was missing his usual as he pelted through the trees, desperately trying to leave behind his most recent heartbreak. The usually lustrous golden coat was tangled and twigs and burdocks clung to his form as straining muscles pushed him ever farther and faster.

Finally, however, he reached his destination - a small clearing deep in the woods with a shallow pond lying at its center. The wolf broke from the trees and drunkenly wove its way towards a cluster of rocks - warm from bathing in the sun for most of the afternoon – that sat on the shore.

Claws clicked against stone as the wolf pulled itself to the top of the formation, then collapsed in a tired, heart-weary lump, letting out a sigh as he did.

For several minutes he stared out over the lake, watching the reflections from the sun high above shine off the water, trying to clear his mind of all the thoughts and emotions that were fighting for his attention. Then a gentle breeze brought a well-known scent to his sharp nose, and he let out a huff of irritation a he turned his head to his left in time to see a giant wolf enter the clearing.

The newcomer had a thick, tawny-brown coat with a trace of gray around his muzzle. Power and confidence oozed from every motion as he stalked over to the rocks, his blue-grey eyes never leaving the other wolf. The blond wolf let out a low whine as the larger wolf stopped next to his perch and stared up at him expectantly. An impatient huff was his reply.

With one final whine the younger wolf slunk down the rocks until he reached the ground. Staying low to the ground, he slowly approached his alpha, stopping at a brief, irritated growl. His move to roll onto his back was halted by a playful nip to his nose. Startled, he dared to raise his eyes, only to meet warm, smiling gray ones.

Without further pause, the larger wolf started to shift. The power of his change rolled over the clearing as fur gave way to naked skin and claws shortened into human nails. One last twist of his neck, which released a series of loud cracks, and Christopher Pike stood to his full height.

His light-brown hair was touched with gray, but his body was chiseled muscle, barely an ounce of fat apparent on his lean frame. His skin was slightly pale but still obviously healthy. His eyes, which now looked down with clear fondness tinged with sympathy on the younger wolf, remained unchanged.

"You didn't really think I'd leave you alone to brood after getting that letter, did you Jim?" he asked, his right hand moving to cup the remaining wolf's head gently, long fingers scratching slightly behind one ear.

This time it was the younger wolf's turn to release a low growl of irritation.

"No, that's the last thing you need. Like it or not, you're stuck with me, son."

Another growl, this time accompanied by an attempt to turn away from the Pike, which was stopped by the previously gentle grip turning firm and unyielding.

"Dammit, Jim," he snarled, moving his hand until it was wrapped tightly around the wolf's throat, forcing the Jim's head up until their eyes met. The weight of his authority bore down on the younger wolf, leaving him gasping for breath. "You are my son, and a part of my pack. Don't you _dare_ question my dedication as Alpha again by insinuating I would abandon a pack member like that."

Jim, unable to move his head, let out a whine in apology and lowered his eyes.

"I know," Chris sighed, releasing Jim's throat and giving one ear a brief rub. Lithely he lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the rocks behind him and straightening his legs out in front of himself.

"Come here," he instructed, jerking his head and waving a hand at Jim.

Cautiously Jim sidled up to Chris, still keeping low to the ground, until he was standing directly beside him. Moving slowly, Jim inched his head closer to Chris until it was resting just above his thighs.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Pike grumbled, "will you stop acting like a timid little kitten and just lay down already."

Not needing further persuasion, Jim collapsed onto the ground, his head landing heavily in Chris' lap and his nose pushing insistently at the man's hand.

Jim's actions were met with a chuckle and a fond, "Brat," and the hand he had been poking moved to stroke his head.

The two stayed like that for over an hour, neither saying anything. Eventually, however, the young wolf let out a long sigh and shifted – remaining on the ground - changing into the form of a teenage human.

Like Pike, his body was firmly muscled, though not quite as developed as the older man's. His skin was a golden tan and his hair the same sun-bleached gold as the fur of his wolf form. His eyes, when they opened to peer up at Chris were an intense electric blue in spite of the sheen of unshed tears that filled them. Chris gently maneuvered Jim's head back to his lap, where he continued to run his hand soothingly through the young man's hair.

"I… I should have known something was up when Sam didn't show up like we planned."

"There's no way you could have known that this was going to happen, Jim."

"How… how could they do this?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know"

"And she couldn't even tell me to my face," Jim muttered. He sat up and bent his legs until his knees were at his chin, the wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on his knees as he gazed out over the water. "She sent a fucking _letter_! 'Hey Jim, having a great time. Glad you're not here. Oh, by the way, I'm getting married. Sam loves him, but he thinks we're a nice normal family. So don't call us. We won't call you.' Fucking bitch!"

Pike sighed, and draped his arm around Jim's back, not mentioning the way Jim curled into the embrace. "I don't know what to say, son. Your mother…"

"That… _woman_… isn't my Mother," Jim growled, straightening up and staring into Chris' eyes. "You and Number One are my parents."

"And we're damn proud of that fact, Jim. In all this crap, don't you ever forget that," Chris demanded, in the back of his mind marveling once again at his son's inner strength. In spite of everything the world had thrown at him, Jim still had the strength of spirit and self-confidence to stand up to his Alpha – to stare him in the eyes and contradict him... Chris couldn't help but tighten his hold on his boy. He would be a great man someday.

"In spite of any other feelings we might have for Winona, Number One and I are and will forever be grateful to her for giving us you. You _are_our son. You _are_ wanted and… dare I say it… loved."

"Daaaaad," Jim protested the heartfelt confession, even as he relaxed back into his Father's hold, settling his head against the older man's chest.

"Yes, you're both terribly manly men," another voice joined the conversation. "That doesn't mean you can't talk about your feelings once in a blue moon."

Both men turned, unsurprised, in the direction from which they had heard the third member of their family approaching.

"Number One," Chris greeted the lithe woman, nodding his head and resettling back against the rocks.

"Hey Mom."

As Number One moved in front of them and lowered herself to Jim's other side he turned back towards the lake. While Jim looked out over the lake, she studied him, taking in his still taut muscles and the anger that lingered in his scent.

"Alright, that's it," she announced five minutes later, rising to her feet again.

"Huh?"

"What…"

"Such witty dialogue. Quite impressive." With that she reached her left hand out, obviously expecting Jim to grab onto it. "Come on, let's go."

"What are you talking about, Mom?" Jim asked. Just because he was used to Number One's abrupt manner didn't mean he wasn't still thrown by her sudden non sequiturs.

"Winona is a selfish, semi-delusional idiot. While your Father has eased most of your pain by reminding you that you belong to our family - and we wouldn't give you up even if threatened - you're still pissed off at her. Understandably. So am I. So I say we go spar and work out the rest of this tension."

Jim stared in astonishment at his mother for a moment, then snorted in amusement as he reached up to take her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

"You just want an excuse to beat up on Dad."

"Hey!" Chris protested, and was summarily ignored.

Number One wrapper an arm around Jim, holding him close as they walked towards the far shore, where a better area for their planned activity was located.

"I don't need an excuse for that. How do you think I became his mate?"

"Frankly, Mom," Jim replied, "it's not really something I want to think about."


End file.
